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( august 1832 )
FOR THE NEXT EIGHT days, Corinne somehow managed to avoid Enjolras completely. She quickly learned just how easy it was to do so when in a house as large as his. The long halls and countless rooms made it so she could go an entire day without so much as catching a glimpse of him, which left her feeling both relieved and disappointed at the exact same time.
Avoiding Enjolras wasn't necessarily something she wanted to do. In fact, she awoke the morning after their almost-kiss with the intention to seek him out and discuss what had happened between them– but upon emerging from her quarters to learn that Monsieur Guillaume had finally returned from his travels, she knew that it wasn't going to be so easy.
Someone had found her and Enjolras in a position that could have easily jeopardized her job. Lucien had sought her out and promised not to tell anyone what he saw that night, and although she wanted to trust him, she couldn't help but remain paranoid. The servants of the house craved gossip as though it was a form of sustenance; if Lucien mentioned it to anyone, it would only be a matter of time before Monsieur Guillaume himself knew.
No matter how much she longed to speak to Enjolras and spend time with him in the way that they had during his father's absence, she knew that, until she was certain that Lucien wasn't going to say anything, she couldn't take any chances.
She would risk any possible relationship with Enjolras to ensure that her employment with his family remained secure– both for her mother's sake, and her own.
She couldn't imagine having to resign, never to see him again after everything that they had been through.
And so, a week came and went without anything more than a quick glimpse of one another from opposite ends of the hall. Enjolras was persistent, a fact that was both frustrating and endearing to Corinne. One day, while she and Amélie were busy dusting the library, she learned that he'd gone so far as to convince her friend to plead his case.
"Corinne, the poor man is a mess," Amélie had said to her. "He thinks that he's done something wrong. I think the least you could do is talk to him."
"You know why I cannot do that," was Corinne's only response, though she was unable to ignore the pang in her chest in reaction to her friend's words.
That night, once they retired to their chambers and were settling into their beds, Amélie attempted to convince her once more. Corinne, however, was just as stubborn as Enjolras was proving to be.
He will understand, she told herself as her head fell upon her pillow. When I can ensure that nothing will happen because of what Lucien saw, I will explain everything. Until then, Enjolras, forgive me.
